A Bloodless Coup
by Vestibulocochlear
Summary: Changing his mind would mean nothing less than war, although the first battle had already been won. PreSlash. PetrosAbel.


_Coup d'état_

_"a (sudden) blow (or strike) to a state"_

_The term coup can also be used in a casual sense to mean a gain in advantage of one nation or entity over another; e.g. an intelligence coup._

Searching for solitude while confined to an inn room with a vampire, a nun, and a priest to crowd him was not an easy task, especially not with half of Carthago alight in his Inquisition's search for the four of them. It should have been only three, but by the graces of unpleasant circumstance he'd been shanghaied into this revolting mess. He would've just as soon killed the two Methuselah for their blatant transgressions against God and the Vatican, but that damn stubborn priest had talked him out of it. (Well, for the remaining one of them. Sister Paula had been lucky enough to dispose of the first assailant before the real complications became evident.)

Perhaps he should have simply jumped ship at that first chance, though, even in full armor as he was. He would have taken the Father with him. At the least, he could've suffered a valiant death finishing off the deputy enforcer who'd crossed the other half of the Vatican. The half he himself was still a part of—_in__ charge _of.

But, no. That path rang distinctly of cowardice, and the Head of the Inquisition, the Knight of Destruction, did not bow to such pathetic escapes. He would keep his new promise to protect them, without considering the weaker schools of thought, until they could reach Cardinal Sforza. The heretics and their vampire would be his to deal with afterward, although he still felt it a pity that he hadn't been allowed a real fight with the priest.

Quiet footsteps alerted him to an approach, and once more Petros lamented the loss of his Screamer to that bottomless pit of the sea. The sounds came from the back of the narrow alleyway he was keeping watch from, however, and more likely than not belonged to an ally rather than one unlucky officer on patrol.

"Aren't you cold out here, in all of that metal?" Soft, amused, the momentarily disembodied voice was accompanied by the brief glint of white light on glass, a pale face forming out of the dark, the bulk of barely visible black robes; Nightroad, then, had come out to find him.

Petros offered only an irritated nod in response, neither answering nor entirely disregarding the other man. He still thought of the priest more or less as a betrayer if not a deserter, and wasn't in the mood to make idle chatter with anyone of the like. The other man, however, did not appear deterred at all by his silence.

"We'll be leaving now, anyway. Sister Esther says she'll be able to get us a car, but I'm certain we shouldn't allow her to go out alone for it," he explained, "Although she did grow up in a rather seedy neighborhood. I'm inclined to think she was much more of a delinquent than she let on." Smiling, the priest spoke in a tone that was both warm and oddly fatherly in spite of words that would otherwise be misconstrued as insults. He cared for the Sister, then. A heretic, but obviously human.

He stepped up to stand across from Petros, his back to the wall and the both of them hidden from the bright glow of the streets in their respective, shallow alcoves. "I apologize.. For the trouble I know we've caused you," Abel added, expression turning secretive and captivating, a smile no longer so friendly as it was bright. "But you are doing the right thing in helping us. An envoy from the Empire isn't someone we can just cast aside."

Petros nodded again, his glare lessening to something nearing neutrality. It was a surprise to hear apologies from the priest, though he had seemed cordial enough a clergyman throughout the short time they had been forced to spend together. The Father had a strange effect on most, it seemed. "I don't believe it would be in God's good grace to allow civilians of Carthago to fall in the unnecessary conflict that would erupt."

"Enough damage has been done," Abel agreed lightly, pale blue eyes busily surveying the dark sky above over the delicate silver rims of his glasses. "But we should be inside with the others, shouldn't we?"

That disarming smile surfaced again, and Petros forgot his unspoken obligation to glare and grunt quietly in annoyance. Abel seemed to catch on and chuckled as he strolled back into the deeper shadows of the alley.

Glowering darkly, Petros followed. He would not be embarrassed by such a flippant idiot.

"Don't think this means I've forgotten about our duel, deputy enforcer," he grumbled lamely.

From farther ahead, a curiously amused question echoed back to him. "Oh? What was that?"

_A coup consists of the infiltration of a small but critical segment of the state apparatus, which is then used to displace the government from its control of the remainder. In this sense, use of military or other organized force is not the defining feature of a coup d'état._


End file.
